


Being a Human (Lover)

by DarthSuki



Series: Daft Punk (EDM) and You [1]
Category: Daft Punk
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Other, Robots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-10
Updated: 2014-02-10
Packaged: 2018-01-11 20:38:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1177662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthSuki/pseuds/DarthSuki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being a human sucks. That statement is perhaps a little harsher than you'd mean it to be, though you won't deny its general gist at the same time. There are many wonderful things that come with being a human, living and very much organic, so many in fact that you can't think to list them all. You do not think any less of the robotic population though! They are also quite amazing, wonderful, and in some cases far more pleasant company than many fellow humans you know.</p><p>Goodness, you need to be a little more sensitive with how you word things.</p><p>----</p><p>Also known as a short oneshot in which you are starting to feel a little bit sad with both your lovers being away and on tour, and guilty for wishing that they could just come back and fill those oddly empty areas in your soft, white bed. Of course, it doesn't stay that way for too long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Being a Human (Lover)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mahkia](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=mahkia), [andrewjaxson](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=andrewjaxson).



> [mahkia](http://mahkia.tumblr.com/): omg robots <333 I absolutely love hurt/comfort, so if there’s some comfort at some point I would be so happy.
> 
> [andrewjaxson](http://andrewjaxson.tumblr.com/): if you could make the protagonist gender neutral or genderqueer that’d be amazing omg
> 
> * * *

**General**

Name: y/n  
Eye Color: e/c  
Hair color: h/c  
Hair Length: h/l

**Gender**

Subject Pronoun (He/She/Ect): s/p  
Object Pronoun (Him/Her/Ect): o/p  
Possessive Pronoun (His/Hers/Theirs/Ect): p/p  
Possessive Adjective (His/Her/Their/Ect): p/a  
Reflexive pronoun (Himself/Herself/Ect): r/p

* * *

Being a human sucks. That statement is perhaps a little harsher than you'd mean it to be, though you won't deny its general gist at the same time. There are many wonderful things that come with being a human, living and very much organic, so many in fact that you can't think to list them all. You do not think any less of the robotic population though! They are also quite amazing, wonderful, and in some cases far more pleasant company than many fellow humans you know.

Goodness, you need to be a little more sensitive with how you word things.

However, it doesn't push away what you've been feeling. Sometimes, there is this nagging, little voice in your head that exists purely to say how much being a human really sucks. Though, perhaps that needs a little further elaboration, because in itself being a human is quite nice, as you've already explained (and very rudely to those of robotic makeup). The issue doesn't so much come from the fact that you are inherently human, but instead it’s that you don't keep a human lover. Instead, you have a wonderful, kind and perfect robotic lover. Well, to be quite honest (as well as accurate) you actually have two.

These two robot lovers of yours are actually whom you're watching so intently on the television.

The weather outside hadn't been very good for the past few hours, taking away any thought you carried about going shopping or getting some errands done. Instead, it left you with quite a variety of things to do indoors, both things of the chore and hobby variety. Instead of getting any of those things done, even while you promised to get your laundry done and the kitchen cleaned, you soon found yourself sitting on the plush couch of the living room, watching the television with apt attention. Because of course, you can't help yourself from watching one of your lovers' performances from a few days ago in New York. And if judging by how most everyone in the audience is going nearly insane with their yelling and fist-pumping into the air, neither can they.

You are so, so proud of your boys, both of them. Seeing them on stage, doing the thing they love doing the absolute most? It's by far the best feeling you've ever had buzzing in your chest, outside the wonderful sensation of feeling so small or tiny whenever either of the boys hug you. And that sensation is quite powerful for you.

Even after being together for almost a year, they are still so surprisingly gentle about their hugging. You still have to tell them they can squeeze you a little harder, just a bit, so you can feel the pressure of their arms lingering around you long after they’ve left for the studio or in this particular case with you in front of the television, before they leave for their concert tour.

You miss them.

It's only supposed to last a few weeks at most, but you miss them so much. You've tried to tell yourself not to feel that way so many times in the past, because they deserve their fame and audience and music. But it's still odd for you to sleep in bed by yourself, clutching a mere pillow to your chest to substitute the pressure of Guy-Man against your front, and a pillow against your back to trick yourself that it's Thomas. The more you feel like this, the guiltier you feel. After all, you said to them that it was completely alright! They had planned the tour for seemingly ever, and of course you had no issue with them being gone a few weeks! Only a horrible lover would tell them to stay, if only because they didn't want Guy-Man and Thomas to be away for so long.

That's probably how the self-depreciation started. Because you are y/n, a simple little human with very famous robot lovers. How they ever took a liking (and soon after, a loving) to you is still far beyond your ability to understand, though you will never think of it with anything less than happiness. It doesn't, however, change the fact that they are very wonderful, perfect and amazing, and you are decidedly less so, in your own eyes.

It's been a week that they've been gone, and you're already feeling a tugging at your heart for their absence. At least they look genuinely happy on the stage, music playing and lights flickering about in yet one more of their amazing performances. There is that to help you feel better, at the very least.

It's when the camera changes when you feel your heart clench.

Towards the fans, all of them jumping and laughing and having a genuinely good time. Almost half of them are dressed in some sort of clothing or accessories with 'DAFT PUNK’ stamped all over, in bright colors or glowing luminescent. Lights are going off in rhythm to the song, a low pulse of movement taking hold in every move that the crowd makes. It's nearly hypnotizing, really, and it makes you remember the times they took you to one of their larger performances a couple months ago. When you're on that stage, able to watch both of your bots making music, it really is hypnotizing. And beautiful.

A couple people in the crowd seem even to be wearing some sort of homemade helmets, beautifully crafted to look like Guy-Man's, complete with flashing LEDs. Well, that is certainly a work of love and passion, you have to admit. They have to be pretty devoted fans to put that much work into something.

But that's just it, isn't it? What really separates you from them? How are you, little y/n, different?

A wave of nervous worry makes your body shiver, and you can't turn off the television quick enough. The question however still lingers in your system, making you legitemently worried about what the answer might be. What makes you different from any other loving fan that Guy-Man and Thomas have?

You're their lover, that's what. All three of you love each other so much so that it's still a wonder, but....isn't that what most of their fans feel? It's not as if you haven’t met some of them, or as if the media hasn't gotten some sense of your existence before. No matter how much either of your bots try to keep you out of the mass media (once going so far to make a Daft Punk-esque helmet and suit when you absolutely had to show up to an award's ceremony, which was entirely adorable of them), things do happen. You...don't exactly want to recall some of what the more distasteful things some magazines wrote, about Daft Punk's 'mysterious robot lover'. Suffice to say, most people from your parent's generation still didn't think that a relationship with a robot, let alone two of them, was something out of general affection. Everybody had to assume it was always a fetish.

You're not a fan, and you're certainly not their lover because of some stupid fetish. But yet, it's hard to find a place in the middle of that, to truly feel like you are worth their affection and time. You blame your own insecurities and the social norms that those of older generations painfully cling to, but it is still enough to make your heart squeeze and your e/c eyes water a little bit.

You are such a crybaby. You're getting so emotional over nothing. Right?

Maybe sleeping is a good idea. You're not in the mood to watch much more television after that, your brain going haywire with doubt and worry. A human can be a true, honest lover to a bot, right? It can be genuine affection, beyond that of a fan, but deeper than some sort of fetish...right?

The house is a little cold as you pad through the dining room, the hardwood floor a little colder than you'd particularly like. You could put socks on, but alas you are just a bit too lazy to bother, especially since you're heading right for the bedroom anyway. You pass through the adjoined kitchen without a thought or word, the only sound following you through the hall being that of your feet pitter-patting against the floor.

The bedroom is a bit warmer, though that could just be the fact that it's a little closer to the heating system, and there are two heating vents just beside the doorway. Or maybe it's because your feet feel the luscious glory of carpet, the sort where you sometimes just like to stand there and wiggle your bare toes a bit, because it feels just so damn soft.

You're in the bed before another reminder or worry can work its way into your brain, plopping into the thick bedding as if you are the gold-medalist of the diving team in the Olympics, though maybe with a bit more flail to your limbs.

The plush comforter is up to your chin before you can bother to think too much about the fact you didn't turn off the light when you came in, so you're left with the annoying decision of either trying to fall asleep with the lights almost ungodly bright above the bed, or having to get up once more to turn them off. A strangled noise of annoyance finds its way out of your lips as you decide to do neither.

The phone in your pocket seems like a wonderful distraction. After all, you were very much caught in the mightiest of wars of willpower and bravery. By that of course, you have yet to get past level 79 of Candy Crush. Stupid virtual candy and move limits. Though when you hit the button to waken your phone, you find several text messages waiting for you. One from your friend, and two more from your bots, though specifically it's one from each of them.

A momentary flash of anxiety flickers through your mind as you wonder when they sent them and why you didn't even notice--your phone was at least set to vibrate. And, at least most of the day, was always in your pocket. A quick look at the details of each message does reveal it was only a few minutes ago, though the one from your friend was yesterday (whoops). At least it was only to crack a joke about how horrible the weather was.

Your eyes are dry from your momentary flush of emotional overload (and now you're feeling sad for feeling sad and it's getting to be a really bad circle of meta- sadness), so your fingers flick across the touch screen so you can read each of them.

From: Guy-Manuel  
You should see the city here. You would love it! <3  
Sent: 5 minutes ago

It's the emoticon that really makes you start smiling. If you had to label either of your bots about their usage of emotes on their screens, Guy-Manuel is by far the worst offender. It was (and still is!) one of the things you and Thomas both find endlessly adorable about him.

The second message takes a little longer to load, you finding soon enough that it's a picture message. A few flickings of your finger and you find yourself both simultaneously filled with joy, and nagged by that damn guilt and sadness again.

The boys are standing together, Thomas holding out the camera to take the picture. Behind them, since you can only assume they're standing on the balcony of their hotel room, is a vast panorama of the city. The sun isn't quire set, but it isn't high enough to look bright either, leaving the entire scene washed in this glorious golden hue. Lights are on behind them, cars and buildings alike, a sort of mishmash of night and day of the city that really does make you want to see it for yourself.

What catches your eye even more strongly is that both of their screens are flashing a bright red heart. It makes you laugh--those silly, stupid bots of yours. They are too cute, too wonderful, too--....amazing. Maybe even a little more than you really deserve, you silly little human.

And the timing can't be any better. Just when you're reminded of that poisonous, nagging little doubt starting to curl itself into your thoughts, your phone starts going crazy, screen backing out of the image screen to very obviously announce a call.

INCOMING CALL: THOMAS

You pick up the call without too much thought, half-instinct to do so, and half--good god who are you kidding, you just plain miss them! In doing so, you're pushing yourself to sit up on the bed, pulling the comforters around your body like a blanket burrito.

"Thomas?" You say, curious and happy at the same time that they called. "I got the picture--it really does look so pretty over there!"

Though, you wish that your voice wasn't as...thick? The emotions softened it up a bit, made it swollen with something like a sponge with water, and you're unable to force it down when you speak at first. It's probably better that you don't start getting so emotional over the phone, because all you needed was both of them worrying if something happened to you while they were gone. Certainly would not help the situation much.

"You did get it?" chirps a replying voice, light and metallic and yes that is definitely Guy-Man. Even though his vocal tone was similar to Thomas', his accent was heavier, and it was easy to pick out, even with the fuzziness of the speakerphone on their end. "It's even more beautiful to see for yourself; a picture doesn't give it proper justice in the slightest."

"It is pArticularly pleasing nOw that the sun’s almost sEt," Thomas adds, though his vocals are a bit quieter, glitching every now and again. He still has to get them looked at by their personal mechanic, after that stunt with falling down a flight of stairs a few days before their tour began. He had promised to get it looked at after their trip is over and so help the holiest of deity you will make sure he does. "I don’t Understand, howEver, why hotels stIll think we need thE room wIth alchohol."

"Maybe it’s a running joke?" You offer, smiling to yourself as you cuddle the blankets around your body. "I dunno, but it is pretty funny. But, maybe they think you like the taste?" Guy-Man makes a soft noise, perhaps to agree to the sentiment, but Thomas makes a fairly short noise of annoyance; with the glitching it comes out like a half- squeek, half-chirping noise that your phone has a little issue producing properly.

"I know wE have the progrAming tO perciEvE the sensatiOn of taste," he says, the glitching almost hilarious to try and listen to as it combines with his accent, "But we neIther have the pArts to consUme alchohol, or the nEEd to drink the fridge filled with it thAt we were offEred."

"A fridge?" You snort out in the closest thing you'd ever come to spontaneous amusement, finally seeming to shove down your negative emotions that were about to burst forth before the phonecall. "You have a fridge filled with alcohol?"

"About as much," Guy replies, and you can almost see the flashing emote (UoU) on his screen, because you know that tone far too well than you'd like to say. "I find the variety very intriguing. How do humans create so many different sorts of alcoholic beverages anyway?" You're about to give your answer to that (rather hypothetical) question, when Thomas beeps in instead.

"I don't undErstand whY humans evEn enjoy that sOrt of drInk. IntoxIcation sounds qUIte uncomfortable, And a hangOver, fAr worsE." He makes a chirping sound, maybe some sort of audible sigh that completely glitched out, and he finally changes the subject to one you're not too fond to dwell on in your current state. "HOw are yOU doing, y/n? We hEard about the unfOrtunate weather and hOped you haven't had anY issues with the hOuse's power or sUch."

You bite your bottom lip for a few moments, trying to pull together a joke that would sate their curiosity enough to change the subject. But of course, it's a second or so too long of a hesitation.

"y/n?" Guy-Man asks. You're half-tempted just to say that the signal is breaking up, half-pushed to make the conversation end or swerve so you don't have to talk about how selfish you're feeling, and how guilty it's making you feel in turn. They don't need to dwell on your nearly jealous emotions about the whole trip.

Of course, that's not what your brain is quite settled on, and instead of a joke popping out of your mouth when it opens, you instead let out a soft, low sound. "...I miss you two."

Thomas is the first one to inquire deeper on it.

"Is sOmething wrOng?" he says, the glitching a bit worse with his rising tone of concern.

"I--I dunno," you answer in turn, fiddling with the blanket by your free hand. "I just--it's really strange that you both have been gone so long and I--I'm just feeling a little overemotional about it. Just...need to get used to it. It's super selfish because I know you both actually have lives and you've both been busy and--" you're feeling all-too-pitiful when your voice finally decides to crack a bit, right in the middle of your rambling. Oh god, that just sounds even worse than what you've feared. A sigh escapes your lips as you try to pull this mess of words together in some form. "...I just miss you guys. Not used to you being gone this long, and I feel bad for feeling bad about it if that makes any sense whatsoever."

Silence comes from the phone, and you swear your heart almost stops because either the call has been seriously dropped, or Guy and Thomas are actually realizing how much of a silly little human you are. But, the moment passes as you year Guy-Man responding to you, his voice so low and gentle that you know it's entirely intentional.

"It's understandable," he begins; voice soothing as it enters your ear and bounces around your head, trying to tether your worrisome thoughts down. "We haven't been gone for so long from you since we began this relationship. Considering that humans are so social, and you so sensitive to your emotions, it does not surprise me that you feel that way y/n." It's certainly a feeling of relief at least, hearing that confirmation from one of your lover's themselves. Enough so that you actually feel your body fall a little limp as your eyes shut on their own accord.

But Guy isn't seemingly finished talking, and you simply let the phone lay on your ear and cheek as he continues. "I can only assume you're currently curled up in bed?"

"Yeah," you mutter back absently, eyes closed and voice getting a little drifty. Oh, what that tone does to you. And Guy-Man damn-well knows it too, and never hesitates to abuse the hell out of it. It's like a tranquilizer for your nerves, settling them down into a perfect numbness until you can't even hear the buzzing in the back of your mind, the worry of the day completely gone.

"Good. I can only assume you've had a long day, considering your preferred activities and the fact you haven't been able to leave the house with the weather." And he does at least have that much right. You sigh, wondering where Thomas had gone off to, since he hasn't said anything for a while. "I think what you should do is rest. You are probably quite drained and require recharging after such expenditure. Can you do that for us, y/n?"

You're about to nod, but then (duh) your lips part and you whisper out, "Uh huh..." feeling your mind starting to fade. “You boys have a good night okay? Don't have too...much fun without....me..." another sigh and your thoughts are starting to blur.

The last thing you can recall with any definite sense is Guy-Man chuckling and chirping a soft, low, "We love you," before you fall off the edge of consciousness completely.

* * *

A shifting. There's a shifting that moves your body, and it starts to make your consciousness lift up from the darkness of sleep. At first you're not sure what's going on or what it is that woke you up, so you're idly blinking your eyes to try to make any sense of it. Was it the storm outside? Was someone breaking in? Oh god, please not that last thing because you do not want to reenact some serious ass-kicking right out of your favorite action movie (too tired for that shit).

When you try to push yourself up and the covers off your body, a pressure stops you. Well, more specifically you find, a pair of hands do. Two of them. You blink your e/c eyes again, finally getting enough sleep out of them to actually focus on what this shifting around you is coming from.

"I--what?"

Suddenly there's a sound beside your ear. It's a soft, gentle shushing of nearly white noise, and suddenly you are more than aware of the two bodies shifting in the bed on either side of you. The shushing continues even when your mind starts to click.

Oh god, what about their performances? The rest of their tour? Your words aren't entirely intelligent as they fumble out in worry and apology alike, but it seems that Thomas and Guy understand it more than enough as they adjust themselves beside you, with one more than slightly playing with your h/c hair. Either to sooth or simply out of his odd sense of curiosity, you can at least say that Thomas is definitely focusing his attention on you, lying against your back. That only leaves Guy-Man as the one against your front. Their bodies are so familiar and warm, the physical fact that they're lying beside you is enough to numb some of your worry. Still, you're confused.

"What about the tour...?"

You smile as Guy speaks, one of his hands caressing the side of your face. "It's still going," his voice buzzes, that same low tone as before on the phone (which you realize quite slowly isn't on your face anymore---Thomas or Guy probably plucked that off right quick before you rolled over on it). "We just made sure to stop home for the time we have until the next show."

It's enough to make you smile even brighter, even in the haze of sleep. It's a reassurance you need. After a few moments, you feel Thomas adjust himself behind you, moving from playing with your hair to wrapping his arms around your waist.

"NExt time," he buzzes, "YoU are cOming on tour with Us." He hugs you tighter to him, gently pressing his visor into the back of your neck enough so that you can feel the coolness of the glass against your skin. It makes a giggle escape your lips, from simply how loving they are, how perfect they are for you. Even moreso, it just cements the fact that they do care for you, so very much, and it makes you feel an overwhelming sense of adoration and love for your dorky robots.

You sleepily wrap your arms around Guy-Man's waist in turn, pulling him against you like some oversized teddy bear. "Alright," you mutter. "I promise I will. I'm sorry for being so stupid about all of this."

"You're not," Guy-Man assures in that soft, metalic tone and accent. "You're just being you. It would be stupid for us to ask for your personality to have been programmed any different upon your birth."

As much as you really much love to correct him on both his vocabulary and his logic, you find yourself giggling sleepily instead. You nuzzle your face against his faceplate, and then turn your head just enough to somewhat do the same for Thomas. "I love you guys. I love you both so much." Because despite the fact that you're a nervous wreck half the time, and a klutz for the rest, they have yet to be anything other than perfect.

Guy-Man's screen flashes with a bright red heart, and Thomas makes a noise which the glitching makes it sound more like a chirp.

"We love you too, y/n," they say in return, before all three of you fall asleep, cuddled in each other’s arms.

**Author's Note:**

> [Feel free to make your own suggestion, idea, or request for a story at my tumblr](http://sukithefangirl.tumblr.com/ask).


End file.
